


Shiba

by yeaka



Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms, The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Established Relationship, Ficlet, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-03
Updated: 2015-07-03
Packaged: 2018-04-07 13:15:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,243
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4264560
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bilbo pets Thorin on a lazy afternoon.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Shiba

**Author's Note:**

  * For [rutobuka](https://archiveofourown.org/users/rutobuka/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Baggenshield Drawing](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/125235) by Rutobuka. 



> A/N: Based on Rutobuka’s absolutely [gorgeous picture](http://rutobuka2.tumblr.com/post/122902514419/i-spent-all-day-long-drawing-bagginshield-send) and “thorin likes getting his hair played with, and bilbo found out he likes having his chest hair petted, and he gets all drowsy like a big dog, accepting his fate in bilbo's hands, and maybe also petted naughtily in the,,,, *tiny voice* armpits” prompt!
> 
> Disclaimer: I don’t own The Hobbit or any of its contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

It’s just about time for tea, but he’s finally gotten to the _good_ part of his book, slow though it’s been. It was difficult to find purely fictional, whimsical stories without all the battles and death, and he had to go all the way to Dale to do it, but his library is now what it should be: full of perhaps the only reading material in the Shire that isn’t bogged down with drudging history. He’s on a particularly fanciful section where the main character—an old woman with ‘hair like the high clouds’—is attempting to seduce a dragon. It’s quite obvious from the descriptions that the author never met a dragon, but Bilbo’s enjoying the ride, nonetheless. The dragon has finally crumbled and agreed to an evening meal when Bilbo hears his own lumbering beast stumble in through the front door.

Dwarf footsteps are unmistakable. As light and quick as Thorin can be in a fight, he weighs down on Bag End’s floorboards like an oliphaunt. Bilbo has the familiar gate memorized, and he can’t help but smile to himself as he hears his lover pause, likely to stretch, a yawn filtering in through the sitting room door, and then more footsteps and the clank of dishes—Bilbo left a buttercake for him on the stovetop.

Bilbo tries to read more, but he only gets so far as the old woman readying for her date when Thorin wanders into the sitting room. He’s just in loose trousers and an open white shift, all his broad, hairy chest exposed and glistening with beads of sweat from the hot Shire sun. He mumbles, “The bench is fixed,” and walks to the couch Bilbo’s sitting on.

Bilbo returns, “Thank you, dear.” He was dreadfully sad when it broke in the first place—he’s sat on the old thing countless mornings, and happened to be on that very bench blowing smoke rings when Gandalf first approached him and started the whole quest. Fortunately, he now has a lover quite adept at building and fixing, and giant, winged friends that can make the journey from one home to another far easier than it was the first time. 

Thorin flashes his charming grin, half love and half self-satisfaction. Bilbo allows him his pride because he’s earned it; he is the magnificent King Under the Mountain, even on vacation and crownless in Hobbiton, and he is so very good at keeping his hobbit happy. He settles down on the other seat of the couch but falls sideways, snuggling his head in Bilbo’s lap and rolling his body towards the door. His dark hair spills down Bilbo’s thighs in waves, his eyes falling closed and his nose letting out a contented breath. It’s getting too late in the day to toil much longer, and it’s clear that Bilbo’s hulking warrior needs a good break. 

Bilbo knows exactly what Thorin wants for it, even if he didn’t say anything. He likes attention, especially from his burglar, and Bilbo obliges. He shifts his grip on the book to one hand and drops the other to Thorin’s head, weaving his blunt fingers into the dark strands. Then he sets in to petting Thorin fondly, pausing every so often to brush out tangles. 

Naturally, it makes reading far more difficult. The book is well written (if lacking in dragon anatomy knowledge) and Bilbo is somewhat invested in the old woman’s growing feelings for the overgrown lizard that she’d once plotted to cozy up to in order to betray. But he’s far more invested in Thorin’s handsome body, and he inevitably gives in to closing the book and tucking it down beside him. That leaves one hand in Thorin’s hair and the other free to drift down to Thorin’s chest. He worms his way beneath Thorin’s arm and scratches across Thorin’s meaty pecs, fingernails catching in the coarse black hair. Thorin lets out a happy groan, something like a big, fat dog, pliant and all at Bilbo’s mercy. It makes Bilbo glow with warmth, the weight across his legs more than worth it. 

For a time, passing in gentle Shire fashion, Thorin drowsily lounges in place and Bilbo pets him, drifting idly around. Bilbo’s favourite place to rub is the very middle of Thorin’s chest, where he can flatten his palm and press in to _feel_ all the hard muscle encased in soft fat. Thorin isn’t shaped like any hobbit Bilbo ever pictured being with—more like something out of a dream, tailored just to Bilbo’s greedy fantasies. 

He also enjoys rearranging Thorin’s hair and occasionally scratching at the stubble along Thorin’s chin. Sometimes, he follows the trail of matted fur down Thorin’s hefty stomach, careful not to touch Thorin’s waistband, lest either of them get too excited. But the place that makes Thorin squirm the most is his armpits. When Bilbo withdraws his hands to beneath the crook of Thorin’s shoulder, and he runs his fingers over the tender flesh, Thorin fidgets and lets out a lewd groan that makes Bilbo curl his fingers in and stroke Thorin all the harder. After a time of watching Thorin pant and shift, Bilbo reaches under the fabric of the shirt to get skin-on-skin. He scratches Thorin’s pit over and over again, watching Thorin’s face flush darker. The drowsiness contorts into a heady purr, his body squirming. For such a powerful thing, he’s surprisingly easy to take down into a writhing mess, though, of course, Bilbo knows all the right ways to touch him. 

Brushing some of the long hair form his forehead, Bilbo bends down to kiss him, just chaste and soft above his dark brows. Eyes still closed, he smiles. It’s so _good_ to see him this relaxed after all the stress of Erebor—they’ll need to go on vacation more often. Moving back across the middle of Thorin’s chest again, Bilbo traces along Thorin’s collarbone and loves the way he blushes. Bilbo places another kiss to his temple, then shifts to lick at the shell of his big, round ear, and nibble on the tip. Bilbo can’t help but playfully murmur, “It’s time for the King Under the Mountain to retire to a nice hobbit bed, I think.” He doesn’t say it aloud, but he’s been meaning to repay Thorin for their last night in Erebor’s royal bed, where Thorin pleased Bilbo so thoroughly that he wasn’t sure he’d be able to make it down to see the eagles in the morning. It’ll be an extra treat to have his go in his own bed, where things are more to his size, except, of course, for Thorin’s big, beautiful body.

While he waits for an answer, Bilbo tweaks one of Thorin’s nipples. It’s only a small tug—as tough as Thorin is, there are parts of his body that are _delicate_ , sensitive and sweet. Bilbo thumbs the other nipple before returning to lightly scratch Thorin’s pit, and Thorin growls breathily, “Careful, Mr. Baggins.” It’s his _I might pounce you_ voice, but he’s acting so tired and satiated that Bilbo can’t quite believe it; he imagines _he’ll_ be doing the pouncing.

He gives Thorin’s forehead another affectionate kiss, and then he shoos Thorin off his lap. A few pushes to Thorin’s shoulder, and Thorin begrudgingly rolls off, straightening out to yawn. 

Then he offers Bilbo a pleased grin and a hand, which Bilbo takes, pulled right up to usher his husband to the bedroom.


End file.
